


the beheading of epithets, the burial of mirrors

by thewordyhibiscus



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (that's in the next installment so), Affectionate Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Affectionate Deceit | Janus Sanders, Angst, Asexual Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders Is A Lawyer, Fluff, Hispanic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, M/M, Minor Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Mountains and mountains of fluff, Music, Name Changes, Past Relationship(s), SPOILER (it was moceit but that's a LONG time ago in context of this fic), again not explicitly mentioned but it's there, and so can roman!, but this one is like medium intensity but PERVASIVE angst, dee/janus can hear music in his head, hell yeah musically inclined boyfriends!, here is the aforementioned fluff, i love him so much, i love them both so much, it isn't explicitly mentioned but it is the headcanon i'm drawing from, it's more technically a spoiler for the work this is inspired by, like a fair amount, mentioned patton - Freeform, rated t bc dee/janus swears, why isn't that a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28785030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewordyhibiscus/pseuds/thewordyhibiscus
Summary: Dee's whole life, he's hidden away his real name away. Even if he's able to change his life and somehow tone down his tendency for falsehood, what can he do about the word that defines him, tolls like a bell in his head night and day? He doesn't have a choice but to live with it.It's Roman who points out legal name changes are a thing.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, if so i'll come back and tag them properly, logicality maybe? we'll see, they have been tagged further below!
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. yes or no?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Poignancy Of Silence, Pt. II](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21600436) by [TheYesterdayShow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYesterdayShow/pseuds/TheYesterdayShow). 



> this fic is inspired by the entire au of "the poignancy of silence" by the wonderful writer theyesterdayshow, even though i only linked the main work that inspired this
> 
> i'm honestly in love with dee's character development in this series and was heartbroken when i read the fic after svsr and i was like,, "dee honey,, i'm so sorry i wish i could make things better for you" and then i remembered that legal name changes are an actual thing so there
> 
> also this is set after pretty much everything Mas has out now, so spoilers for that series! read at your own risk, and i do recommend reading the og series for a good chunk of context, including the mentioned music. tldr is that they can basically hear mood music for other people.
> 
> i know it says i have two chapters planned and that is what i currently think it is, but it might turn out to be three
> 
> title of the work is from "Proem" by Octavio Paz

The afternoon was golden, and Dee basked in it.

For once, neither he nor Roman had anything to do and they were curled up on the couch. Roman was a pleasant weight on him, face pressed into his neck and arms wrapped tight around him, snaking under his jacket. His dark hair was soft on Dee’s cheek, wonderfully warm and familiar. They’d just had lunch, and their days off were coinciding, and everything was so wonderfully warm and relaxed.

So of course he had to go and ruin it.

Roman’s song was faint, carrying through the room; only the strings were audible, soft and sweet. Every now and then, a dash of brass would come floating through and fade into the background just as quick. Dee hummed along to the song in his head, looking for where it would eventually loop back to the beginning. Roman was basically boneless on his chest, eyes half-lidded and mouth parted, his warm breath hitting Dee’s neck every few seconds. 

Dee counted the breaths, and asked himself why the hell he was doing this. 

He trusted Roman, and he knew he wouldn’t laugh at him. But Patton hadn’t laughed, either; he’d only turned around and brought it up in one of the worst fights they’d had, before leaving.

 _You hurt him_ , whispered a voice in his head and Dee gritted his teeth against it. That didn’t excuse Patton betraying his trust like that. 

_Are you really one to be judging betrayals of trust?_

Dee closed his eyes briefly, relishing the soft drag of the strands of dark hair on his cheek. Roman made a sleepy, needy noise into his neck, making Dee’s heart skip a beat—it happened every time Roman went soft like this, pliant and warm and trusting in his arms. Roman _trusted_ him, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time. 

Debating Patton’s use of his name and whether it was justified was useless. That . . . that was behind him. And Roman would _understand_. Roman wouldn’t do that to him.

Fuck, what if hearing his name changed Roman’s opinion of him? What if he started scrutinizing Dee for signs of dishonesty? What if he called him by his real name in conversation accidentally, Dee would never recover from that—

Roman made a questioning noise, and Dee blinked down at him. He’d raised his head and was frowning a little. “You okay, honey-Dee?”

Despite himself, Dee felt his mouth tick up. He hadn’t even realized Roman’s song had faded out completely, he’d been so lost in thought. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Roman raised his eyebrows. “Your song sounds like anxiety.”

Dee huffed. This was what invalidated most of his worries. Most of the time, he literally couldn’t lie to Roman—he’d see through it without any effort. (And there was the little matter of Roman also understanding _why_ he wanted to lie.) “Okay, yeah, I’m anxious. I . . . I want to tell you something.”

Roman blinked. “Is it bad?”

Dee shoved down the automatic “yes” on the tip of his tongue. “I don’t know.”

Roman tilted his head, and then said, “Is it your name?”

Dee’s mouth dried out and he felt himself tense. “How’d you know?” he breathed out. He gripped the side of the couch, trying to tamp down the unrelenting panic. 

A horrible thought struck him. Had Roman found out, somehow?

“I guessed, sweet-Dee,” Roman said and pushed himself upright. Fear flared up in his chest, hot and bright, before Roman made grabby-hands at him, clearly worried. He followed Roman’s gentle touch, sitting up and leaning on the spot between the seat and arm of the couch. His boyfriend shuffled on to his lap, looping his arms around Dee’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. “Is this helping?”

Dee exhaled, fisting his hands in the back of Roman’s shirt. “Yeah,” he managed and focused on his breaths. It was going to be fine. Roman would _understand_. He wouldn’t hurt him. Neither of them were going to hurt each other. 

“Honey,” Roman murmured. His song had shifted, strains of violin going high and wobbly—worry. “Honey, you don’t have to tell me. It’s okay.”

Dee focused on the warmth of where their skin touched, and inhaled, focusing on the way his lungs expanded. “I want to,” he rasped out. “I want to tell you.”

Roman leaned closer and brushed their noses together. “Do you want me to help you?”

Dee blinked at him. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. “How?”

“You don’t have to say anything. I can just ask you yes or no questions and you can shake your head.” At Dee’s silence, Roman cleared his throat softly. “Of course, you don’t have to. I thought it might take some off the pressure off—“

Dee tugged Roman closer and hid his face in his shoulder, and Roman paused. “Honey-Dee?”

“I’ll play,” Dee said into his shoulder and it came out muffled, but Dee could feel his smile through the steadying strings still echoing in his ears. 

“Okay. Can we shift a little?”

Dee pulled back, and Roman somehow rearranged them both so that Roman was lying on the couch with Dee’s face pressed into his neck, allowing him to hide without ever losing contact with him. “First question, okay?”

Dee hummed affirmatively, a little curious. What kind of yes-or-no question could Roman ask with what he already knew? A small part of him told him to lie, to mislead and direct Roman away from what Dee wanted him to know.

“Does this secret have to do with you?”

Dee looked up at Roman, too baffled to remember his apprehension or his urge to lie. “You’re asking me if my name, that I want to tell you, has to do with me?”

Roman’s eyes were twinkling, and it took Dee’s breath away for a moment. “Yes or no question, honey-Dee.”

Dee rolled his eyes, but he could feel his mouth twitching. “Yes.”

“Do other people know about this?”

Dee grimaced. “Voluntarily?”

Roman shifted and cuddled him closer. “Yes, but also, like, it’s probably on legal documents and stuff, right?”

Dee sighed. Might as well get everything out in the open. He resolutely ignored the part of him that was screaming bloody murder at baring himself like this. “You remember my ex I told you about?” 

“The one with the jaunty piano song you played?”

Dee hummed. “I told him my name. He—“ His throat choked up, but he forced out, “He brought it up the night before he broke up with me.”

He heard Roman inhale sharply. “That’s awful, darling. You told him that in confidence.”

“I was awful to him, too,” Dee said quietly. “I kept lying to him about where I was and what I was doing. He was always very hurt when he found out.”

“I don’t know anything about him,” Roman said firmly. “You may have hurt him, but it was better for him to leave or distance himself from you instead of bringing up something you trusted him with. He shouldn’t have broken your trust in return.”

Dee exhaled, ignoring the stinging in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Roman only kissed his head. “No problem, darling. Next question?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you feel like you have to tell me?”

“I want to,” Dee said, pressing his cheek to Roman’s shoulder. “But you might leave.”

He didn’t look up, but he could tell Roman was concerned anyway by the shift of his strings. He felt Roman take a deep breath, and his grip tighten slightly. “I promise I won’t.”

Dee only pressed his cheek to his shoulder again; Roman squeezed him in answer. “Next question?” When Dee hummed, Roman said, “Is it unusual?”

The question startled a huff of laughter out of him. “Very.”

He received another kiss to the top of his head. “Does it start with a letter in the first half of the alphabet?”

Dee lifted his head to give Roman the dryest look in his repertoire, but faltered at the mirth in Roman’s eyes. His boyfriend was so clearly trying to make him feel better, trying to make him laugh and Dee completely forgot what he was going to say, instead leaning forward to kiss him gently. Roman made a surprised noise, but melted into it, sliding one hand into Dee’s hair and holding him close. 

Dee drew back and found his eyes stinging again; he blinked rapidly. “I love you.”

Roman’s whole face softened, and Dee, as always, couldn’t believe it was because of him. “I love you too. So much.” The hand in his hair moved to cup his cheek—the one with the birthmark. “Which is why, honey-Dee, I’m not going to be scared away or disgusted by whatever you want to tell me. I know it isn’t really a part of you or anything you identify with, and I won’t judge you with it.”

Fuck trying not to cry; Dee leaned forward to kiss his boyfriend again, shaking. “Thank you,” he gasped into the kiss. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Roman exhaled, pulling away and wiping his thumb over the tears on his cheek—on his scarred cheek. Dee leaned into the touch, half-closing his eyes and steeling himself. Then he took a deep breath. It was now or never. 

“Deceit.”

Roman blinked at him and the thumb on his cheek stilled, but only for a moment. “Hm?”

“My name,” he elaborated, closing his eyes fully and leaning into Roman’s touch. If he was going to leave, he might as well savour what he had now. He was strangely calm for just having confessed something to him that only a handful of people knew. 

Roman’s thumb was still stroking. “Okay,” he said at last and Dee’s eyes snapped open.

“Okay what?” He almost cringed at how defensive his voice was. “You don’t have anything else to say?”

Roman’s eyes were more grey than brown right now, a little stormy. “I don’t care about that being your legal name. If you say your name is Dee, it’s Dee. Thank you for telling me, though.”

When Dee started crying, Roman tugged him close and let him sob until his relief drained away and he fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love roman but writing him is hell because i need to come up with nicknames. it took me an embarrassingly long time to come up with the two roman uses here


	2. the moment of greatness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Names are like coats. Sometimes you're given a coat that doesn't fit you at all and not only looks bad on you, but makes _you_ look bad. You wear it, though, because what other choice do you have when it's cold? 
> 
> Dee tries on a bunch of coats. (Just go with the metaphor.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title of the chapter is from [the love song of alfred j. prufrock](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/44212/the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock) by t.s. eliot  
> i forgot to add that roman is ace to the tags, so i've done that  
> also the second chapter did split into two so here's the first part, and the next (and final) installment will be the scene i wrote this entire fic for  
> the use of footnotes in this chapter is based on [the nice and accurate guide to footnotes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20192773) by Vigs  
> oh and yeah, i added logicality to the additional tags because they'll be showing up next chapter. i read into things in the og work and i love logan, so he'll show up!
> 
> no shade at the portion of the fandom who've used these names for janus (which is everyone /j), i love y'all and your fics. i also loved the reasoning behind the name "ethan" so i brought that up!  
> cw: swearing, mild kissing i suppose

“I’ve been thinking,” Roman said a few days later, “on the subject of legal names.”

It was an otherwise ordinary Saturday morning. Dee had woken up early, unable to sleep, and made himself coffee, intending to get some work done (even though he’d spent most of the week at his office and ended up getting home after Roman had fallen asleep pretty much every day). Then he’d gotten distracted by Roman on the pullout bed, curled around his stuffed lion, face completely relaxed in sleep. He ended up sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone and rationalizing to himself that he was supposed to be taking time for himself today anyway, until a sound from the bed had drawn his attention and he’d gotten to watch Roman wake up, hair mussed from moving in his sleep and words muzzy.

Dee tried very hard to hold on to the memory of Roman’s reflexive grin when he caught sight of him sitting at the table, drinking coffee and watching him.

He was overreacting to Roman’s simple statement. It didn’t mean anything that he was asking about it less than a week after Dee had told him. Everything was fine.

Roman’s eyes widened at the clear panic Dee was definitely not succeeding in keeping from his face. “Oh, no, honey, I’m not—I just wanted to point out you can change your name.”

Dee blinked at him. This was new territory. After a long moment, he rasped out, “Do you . . . want me to?”

Roman was already up and walking around the table, shaking his head. “No, Dee, I don’t care, it’s your choice.” He went down on a knee to get to Dee’s level, taking one of his hands; he automatically squeezed back. “You just . . . You just looked so unhappy when you told me. And you clearly hate it.” Roman bit his lip, clearly nervous, and shifted on one knee. “I just . . . Um, I think I just don’t understand why you haven’t changed it?” He winced. “Of course, you don’t have to tell me anything, I know it was probably out of bounds—"

Dee squeezed his hand weakly, and Roman paused speaking, instead peering at him worriedly. He only squeezed it again, trying to sort . . . whatever he was feeling right now. Surprise? Worry? Maybe he was just in shock. 

Maybe he’d never even realized the kind of agency he held over his life.

Dee swallowed and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Roman’s and shutting his eyes; Roman’s hand travelled up to his elbow, pulling him closer and grounding him further.

They stayed like that in silence for . . . how long, Dee didn’t know. It couldn’t have been long, because Roman showed no signs of discomfort (as excellent an actor his boyfriend was, Dee knew pretty much every one of his tells). He drew in a breath to speak, and Roman leaned away a little bit to look him in the eye but squeezed the hand on his elbow slightly.

It was going to be okay. Roman had stayed this long. Roman loved him.

“I . . . didn’t realize,” Dee said quietly, bracing himself for mockery. “I forgot I could change it.”

Roman’s expression creased into sorrow and understanding; Dee remembered the circumstances of their meeting, and felt foolish. How could he have expected Roman to mock what he knew so well?

Roman must have noticed the change in his expression, because he frowned a little bit. “It’s okay to be afraid, remember?” he said, parroting what Dee said to him every time Roman flinched or asked for his space right back at him. Goddammit. “It isn’t stupid. It’s a natural reaction.”

Dee only smiled at him and leaned forward to kiss his nose; Roman made a surprised _meep_ , and then laughed a little, startled.

Dee moved to catch the hand that was still on his elbow in his own and pressed a kiss to his palm. “I’ve been waiting to do that since you woke up today morning and smiled at me,” he informed Roman and spied a twitch at the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth: a slow, helpless smile that still made his heart flutter like anything after years.

Roman leaned forward, and Dee let his eyes fall shut; his mouth tasted cool and clean, like water. Roman’s hands came up to cup his face, thumb brushing over his birthmark without a flinch.

With the ease only familiarity could bring.

When Dee drew away, he said, “Will you help me?”

Roman’s brow furrowed, and Dee resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss it away. “Help you with what?”

“Picking a name.”

Roman’s lips parted, and his eyes roamed Dee’s face. Dee put all his concentration into ignoring the sudden twisting in his stomach. After a long pause, Roman said, “Are you sure?”

“I think so,” Dee said, reaching up to cover one of the hands cupping his face with his own. “I might change my mind later, but I want to share at least part of this with you. I know—“ He hesitated and glanced away, to where his coffee mug was sitting on the table, before steeling himself and looking back at Roman. “I know this will be my choice and my decision to make in the end, but it’s—it’s something meaningful to me. I want to share at least part of it with you.”

Roman blinked, and then his face burst into a smile like the sun rising above the horizon. “Where do you want to start?”

* * *

The worst part about picking a new name was the choice paralysis; i.e., there were _too many options_ and languages needed to chill the fuck out.

“Dorian?”

“I do _not_ want to share a name with a pretentious fuck who had a magical painting of himself and ended up destroying his own life.”

Roman was clearly amused. “It’s also the name of one of the protagonists in _Throne of Glass_.”

Dee blinked. “That . . . is very impractical. That shit would shatter in a matter of seconds. And what book is this again?”

“It’s a metaphor, honey, and also magic exists in their world. And—”

“Wait. Don’t tell me.” Dee held up a finger, smirking. “It’s a YA novel.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Not every novel with magic is a YA novel,” he began, then rolled his eyes harder at Dee’s smug expression. “But yes.”

“Devon?”

“Isn’t that a place in England?” Dee inquired, genuinely confused; Roman only shrugged back, clearly as puzzled, and continued searching.

“Dante?”

“Darling, I love you, but I might end up breaking down laughing if I have to call you that.”

“Damian?”

“. . . Like the Robin?”

“It’s also spelled with an e, if you want to differentiate yourself from him,” Roman offered and then snorted at Dee’s scandalized expression.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Zero percent fucking,” Roman promised and then they both giggled at his words. Impulsively, Dee leaned over to kiss his cheek, and Roman blinked at him. “What’s that for?”

“Just because,” Dee told him. “You’re cute.”

Realization flashed across Roman’s face, and he chuckled. “Are you seriously going to kiss me every time I laugh?”

In answer, Dee leaned over and pressed his lips to Roman’s cheek again; when he giggled, Dee tackled him and peppered kisses all over his face until they were both shaking with mirth.

The list of names lay forgotten for now. Dee had more important things to do, like appreciating the way Roman’s face lit up every time Dee kissed him. 

* * *

Dee branched out. 

“Horace?”

Roman blinked up at him from his phone, where he must have been texting Tucker, one of his coworkers at the theatre. Dee had met them exactly once and was immediately slammed with a parenting instinct so strong he’d had to take a few minutes to go outside and sit down because holy shit, they were small. They were so young. Dee had taken a shine to the kid (like pretty much the rest of the theatre crew), and had given Tucker his number when he and Roman ended up driving them to the theatre a few weeks back.[1] Roman had done the same, and the rest of the crew had followed suit. The kid apparently had about a hundred contacts in their phone by now.

“Are you, like, specifically going for a stuck-up 1920s businessman vibes?” When Dee shrugged, Roman screwed up his face. “I mean, you don’t really strike me as a Horace.”

Dee raised an eyebrow. “Are you just dismissing all the names that don’t start with a D out of hand?”

Roman looked offended. “There are plenty of names beginning with D that don’t suit you, don’t you dare insinuate that it’s a criterion for my opinion—" 

Roman broke off when Dee leaned forward to kiss his cheek, turning to him after a moment; their mouths met briefly but sweetly. When Roman drew back, he was grinning. “Cheater.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dee said primly and reached forward to shift Roman’s laptop to the coffee table so they could cuddle. Roman laughed, and Dee leaned over to kiss his cheek; when Roman caught his mouth this time, they were both smiling too hard to kiss properly.

* * *

Dee looked at names beginning with L exactly once.

_Locke, Liam, Lionel, Lyle, Lyal, liar, liar, liar, liar liar liar—_

* * *

“Ethan?”

Roman looked up at him, and Dee was seized with a brief fear that he might say, _Are you still on this?_ But Roman closed the book he was reading and tipped his head to the side, biting the inside of his cheek. “All it gives me is like, pirate vibes? With an eyepatch.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why’d you pick it?”

“I could pull off an eyepatch.” Dee sat down next to him and was beset with an armful of his boyfriend the next moment. He shifted absently, arranging them both on the couch so that Roman was lying on top of him, forehead tucked into Dee’s neck. “I picked it because it derives from ethos.”

“Ethos as in ethos, logos, pathos?”

Logos. Pathos.

“Yeah,” Dee said and he knew, he _knew_ that his voice had remained perfectly steady, so when Roman shifted to look up at him worriedly, he knew his music must have changed somehow. Roman’s own music had tipped to the faint, high strains that sounded when he was concerned. “I’m fine,” he said automatically and Roman only leaned closer to nuzzle his scarred cheek.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

Dee wrapped his arms around Roman more firmly in response. “I changed my mind, I don’t think I want to use Ethan.”

Roman kissed his scarred cheek, and then Dee felt him grin against it. “So you admit you can’t pull off an eyepatch?”

“I might if you were wearing it,” Dee purred and it was a sign of how far they’d come, he thought, that Roman only giggled and hid his face in Dee’s neck.

* * *

He’d liked the name Ethan more than most, because he’d researched its origins and liked the way it sounded. He’d liked it right up until his brain had brought up the possibility he might have matching names with Logan and Patton and that was something he refused to even consider.

But he’d liked Ethan because it meant something.

He took a different tack, looking at names meaning choice, meaning knowledge. Meaning duality. And of course, names that sounded good when spoken.

_Janus Quirinus is a purely Roman god, not taken from the Greek pantheon, as most of the others are. He was part of the predecessor to the Capitoline Trio (consisting of Jupiter Maximus, Juno Regina, and Minerva) and comprised a triad of gods: Jupiter, Mars, and Janus himself. As the Roman Empire progressed and temples to the gods sprung up over the land, Janus Quirinus did not have a temple of his own but had a dedicated_ flamen _at every temple, and was invoked before every ritual._

_He was the god of beginnings and endings, said to have two faces: one to look back on the past, and one to look forward to the future._

> [1]“Here’s our number, let us know if you need us to pick you up again,” Dee said absently. He didn’t register Roman’s snickers, but paused when Tucker looked puzzled.
> 
> “Your number?” they said uncertainly.
> 
> “Yes,” Dee affirmed, wondering what on earth they were confused about.
> 
> “You guys have a shared phone number?”
> 
> Roman burst out laughing, and Dee felt himself flush. “No, we don’t. This is just my number, since I’m the one with the car.”
> 
> Tucker’s expression tipped over into understanding, and they held up a peace sign before disappearing into the theater. Roman remained, leaning down to grin at him. “Our phone number, huh?”
> 
> “Landlines are a thing,” Dee tried and got a blinding smile for his troubles. 
> 
> “Ah, yes, our landline. The landline belonging to us, the landline meant specifically for us to use, our landline.”
> 
> “Fuck off,” Dee mumbled, trying not to sink into his seat.
> 
> Roman only smirked and crooked a finger. “Stick your head out of the window.”
> 
> “What? Why?” Roman puckered his lips and Dee rolled his eyes, leaning out of the window. “You’re lucky I love you,” he informed his boyfriend, who only grinned wider and closed the distance. The kiss was short and sweet, but it lingered on his lips long after he and Roman exchanged their “I love you”s and he’d driven to work. [back]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sources for the janus section: the research i did for the capitoline trio for an english assignment + the research i did on my own to figure out where in the hell the name tarquin came from (some of the tangential knowledge is from there)  
> lmk if there are any typos, editing brain doesn't catch them when i do it last minute  
> tucker is from violet's superb pieces fic [patched-up satin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26461177), but they use he/him pronouns in violet's fic  
> the next chapter will be up in one to two weeks but hopefully one?


End file.
